


Your Bright Eyes Burn Through My Exploding Heart

by perfectlystill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlystill/pseuds/perfectlystill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She sees Allison and Lydia thinks, in this order</i>, she should be my friend<i>, and then,</i> she's really pretty. (Unrequited Lydia/Allison)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Bright Eyes Burn Through My Exploding Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Bright Eyes's "Patient Hope in New Snow."

She sees Allison and Lydia thinks, in this order, _she should be my friend_ , and then, _she’s really pretty_.

So she compliments her jacket and calls Allison her new best friend and drags her to lacrosse practice.

And then Allison’s asking who Steve or Scott or Stan or whoever is and Lydia looks at Allison’s face and her stomach drops.

 _Oh_.

 

 

 

It hurts. More than Lydia thinks it should--and she’s actively not going to think about what that means--that Allison shows up at the party with Scott.

Lydia watches them dance and she’s angry. She’s angry that Scott’s here with Allison, and she wants to ask Allison if family night got canceled or if it was a lie, even though she knows it’s probably the latter.

The thing is Lydia has a lot of friends. She has Becky who sits next to her in history and always offers her the new nail polishes she buys. And Carrie who gossips with her during their free period. Sarah always invites her to hang out on the weekend if she has nothing else going on. Lydia has _friends_ , she’s not some sort of pathetic social outcast, but they don’t know anything about her and she doesn’t really know anything about them.

She wants Allison to know things about her and she wants to know things about Allison.

She wants to know everything about Allison.

 

 

 

Apparently Allison feels kind of bad about lying to her because when Lydia asks if she wants to go the mall Allison agrees with only mild hesitation.

Lydia offers to buy Allison a soft pretzel because it seems like a nice, friendly thing to do. It’s a gesture that says _I’m not angry that you lied to me so you could go to the party with a boy who only has a weird improvement in lacrosse skills going for him_.

Allison declines. “I’m not hungry. Thank you though.”

“Okay.” Lydia presses her lips together and tries to think of something to say that doesn’t sound overly pushy. She doesn’t want Allison to think she’s prying. She totally doesn’t care if Allison likes Scott more than her. Like, whatever. Lydia knows she’s cooler and smarter than Scott.

Allison says, “Where do you want to go?”

Lydia shrugs. “We could just walk and see if anything looks interesting.” Her elbow bumps against Allison’s arm so she presses it against her side. “Tell me about San Francisco.”

“It was nice. I think you’d really like Fisherman’s Warf.”

“Tourist attractions are always fun. Especially when they involve shopping.” Lydia nods decisively and Allison laughs. The sound seems to hum in the air, making Lydia feel warm all over. “What about your friends?”

Allison worries her bottom lip between her teeth and pulls her sleeves down over her hands. “Fine. I was only there for a year. We probably won’t keep in touch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Allison shrugs, like she’s not really upset about it. Lydia thinks the way it sounds is probably more embarrassing than how it actually feels.

“We won’t lose touch if you move.” Lydia means it. She thinks she probably needs a friend more than Allison does, but she’s not going to say that. That would _actually_ be embarrassing. “But you’re not allowed to move.”

Allison shakes her head. “Not up to me. Still a minor.”

“Well make the most of it while you are here, then.” Lydia smiles and their elbows knock together. This time she doesn’t make an effort to move it away. “I’m going to be prom queen, though.”

 

 

 

Lydia convinces Jackson to go on a double date with Allison and Scott because _don’t you want to show Scott up?_ and _I’ll suck you off after_ and _you know it’ll be fun_.

It’s not actually as fun as Lydia thought it would be. The problem isn’t that she pretends to be worse at bowling than she really is--she knows the math behind it, she knows how to be good and she knows how to be decent and she knows how to suck--and it’s not that Jackson is competitive. Lydia’s pretty sure it has to do with Scott and Allison.

Her jaw clenches and she knows why--she could know why if she let herself recognize it, but she won’t.

The way Allison’s hand lingers on his arm and how her smile takes up her entire face, reaches her eyes and settles there when she looks at him. When he gets a strike there’s a mixture of pride and joy and something else that Lydia recognizes. It’s how she used to look at Jackson.

She thinks it might be in her face when she looks at Allison now.

 

 

 

“How’d it go?” Lydia asks, legs crossed as she sits in front of her mirror. She dabs some concealer under her eyes.

She sees Allison’s reflection look down and smile. “Good.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow. “Good?”

Allison laughs and repeats, “Good.”

“You can tell me.” Lydia picks up a lipstick and looks at it carefully. She knows it’s technically impossible for the human brain to multitask, that it can only switch between things really quickly, but she’s still good at multitasking. It’s a little harder with how tight her stomach is because she looks in the mirror and Allison is grinning even wider, but it’s doable.

“We didn’t…He stayed for dinner.” She shakes her head. “My dad was beyond ridiculous.”

Lydia quirks her mouth. “Did he ask what Scott’s intentions were?”

Allison laughs quietly, scooting back on Lydia’s bed and grabbing a pillow to hug to her chest. “No. But before he left my Aunt Kate accused him of stealing a condom from her.”

“What?” Lydia spins around in her chair, her mouth dropping open. “He didn’t?”

“No.” Allison smiles even wider and her eyes are so bright Lydia wants to fall into them. “I did.”

It only takes Lydia half a second to adjust her face into a smirk. “Good for you.” She smears pink lipstick on and then says, “When are you going to let him at your lady parts?”

She smacks her lips together, watches a blush creep up Allison’s neck and reminds herself to stay put, to breathe. “You don’t want him to get bored you know.”

“Scott’s not like that,” Allison says, quick but sure. A beat as her brow furrows together and then, “Is Jackson like that?”

“No.” Somehow Lydia’s response, though equally as quick, manages to sound defensive where Allison’s didn’t. “No, he’s not. But he’s a boy, Allison.”

Allison raises her eyebrows but she nods a few times as though she’s trying to appease Lydia, as though she’s trying to say _I just care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt_. She actually just says, “Okay.”

Lydia goes back to her makeup and a minute later Allison offers to help with her hair.

Lydia tries not to shiver when Allison’s fingers brush against her neck.

 

 

 

Allison’s nice and makes Lydia and laugh and she feels like a real friend. Someone she can talk to about boys and her parents, someone who can make lacrosse posters with her even though Allison won’t let her use glitter, and someone who she can call in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep.

And okay, it’s one in the morning and Lydia isn’t sure if anyone would really consider that the middle of the night the same way they would 3 or 4 a.m. But it’s late.

Allison picks up, sounding groggy.

“Hey? Allison?”

“Oh my god, Lydia.” There’s an edge to her voice, worrying creeping in, and Lydia thinks maybe it’s for her, like Allison can just tell that she’s freaking out about everything because nothing makes sense. But then Allison says, “Hold on.”

“Okay.” There’s rustling and Lydia hears another voice, muffled, and she knows its Scott. There’s a small, terrible, selfish part of Lydia that hopes Allison’s parents find out and well, she doesn’t know what would happens next, but it wouldn’t be good.

Lydia waits until she hears the start of an engine and then Allison says, “Sorry. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep. I’ll let you go.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m heading home now anyway. Fell asleep.”

Lydia sighs and slouches down in bed, closing her eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” Allison asks.

“Waking you up so your parents don’t murder your boyfriend.” Lydia pulls the covers up and closes her eyes.

Allison laughs quietly and Lydia can almost imagine she’s lying next to her, body warm, hair splayed over the pillow. Allison says, “Thank you.”

It’s probably because she’s tired that Lydia says, “You’re the only person I’ve ever called at 1 in the morning. Well, excluding like, booty calls.”

“I’m honored.”

“You should be. It’s a very prestigious position.” Lydia smiles and stretches her legs out, curling her toes against the sheets. “How’s Scott?”

Allison’s voice takes on an entirely different tone when she says, “He’s good.”

Lydia’s stomach clenches and god, she’s so tired and she wishes Allison would talk about her with that kind of slow and lazy affection, as though she lets it seep through her bones and into her smile before she speaks. It doesn’t hit Lydia like a ton of bricks, the fact that she’s in love with Allison, she just kind of lets herself realize it when she should be asleep, when her brain is buzzing painfully in her head and keeping her eyelids open is almost painful. She says, “Good. I think I’m going to try and sleep.”

“Okay. Night Lydia.”

“Bye.” Lydia hangs up, drops her phone on her nightstand and squeezes her eyes shut, tries not to let it hurt so much.

 

 

 

When Allison and Scott breakup Lydia feels surprisingly terrible instead of good. She wants to tell Allison it’ll be okay and it’s for the best. And she does. But she can tell Allison still doesn’t know if that’s true or not.

Lydia’s frustrated by Jackson and Allison hanging out and Allison being hung up on Scott and somehow she ends up making out with Scott.

It’s not--

She can’t help but think about how he probably used to kiss Allison like this—this is what Allison likes, his tongue clawing its way into her already open mouth, his hands spread out over her hip. Lydia pretends she can taste some of Allison on him, feel the impression her body made when it was slammed into Scott’s.

She thinks: _Allison was here_.

She thinks: _this is the closest I’ll ever get_.

In the end, it only makes her feel worse.

 

 

 

Allison comes over to study, but the material is really easy for Lydia and she can’t bring herself to care about compounds or chemical equations today. She says, “We should watch _The Notebook_ and eat ice cream.”

Allison looks up at her, a smile tugging at her mouth. “We have a test tomorrow.”

“So?” Lydia tilts her head and tries to her best to stare compliance into Allison.

“We have to study,” Allison says. Lydia can practically hear the internal duh </i> she’s adding to the sentence.

“You get good grades. I get good grades. What’s the point?”

Allison shakes her head but she says, “Ice cream sounds good.”

Apparently she thinks this is a compromise, because after she finishes her bowl and washes it out in the sink she tells Lydia they should get back to memorizing different chemical reactions. Lydia thinks about protesting, but she’s pretty sure Allison will leave if she pushes too hard.

She finishes her problem set and pretends to keep scribbling, looking up at Allison every couple of seconds and watching the way her curls fall around her face, her mouth pulled into a straight line as she concentrates. Her skin looks so soft and Lydia wonders what it’d be like to brush Allison’s furrowed brow with her thumb, to be brave enough to reach out and do it.

She’s isn’t that brave, of course.

Lydia doesn’t think she’s very brave at all.

And when Allison hugs her goodbye and says, “Thanks for all the help,” Lydia is reminded of the time she told Allison _just studying never ends with just studying_.

Lydia thinks she had to be wrong about something eventually.

 

 

 

Allison and Scott get back together, but for some reason Allison’s parents like, really really hate Scott. He’s not Lydia’s favorite person either, but she’s not sure Allison’s parents realize how hot forbidden things are.

The worst part of it is that Lydia has to be Allison’s alibi sometimes.

Like now.

Allison’s standing in the doorway, a bag slung over her shoulder. “Hi. Thank you so much.”

Lydia steps aside and lets her in. “How long until you abandon me?”

“Don’t be like that,” Allison says, rolling her eyes. “We’ll have an actual sleepover next week.”

The last time they planned one Allison ended up canceling without really explaining why, but her eyes are wide and her mouth is bent into a frown, so Lydia lets it go. “If you promise.”

“I do.”

“Come on,” Lydia says, turning on her heels and heading up the stairs to her room. She can feel Allison following her, just out of reach. Lydia opens the door to her room and flops down on her bed. “Really though. When are you leaving me?”

“Ten.” Allison lets her bag fall to the floor next to Lydia’s dresser. The same place she puts it when she really is spending the next.

Lydia glances at her phone. “It’s 9:45.”

Allison scrunches up her face, her noise wrinkling. “Sorry.” She leans against the door. “I’ll crawl in later and we can do something tomorrow.”

Lydia crosses her arms and legs and leans even more into her pillows. “You’ll buy me lunch?”

Allison opens her mouth as though she’s going to protest, so Lydia shoots her a glare and Allison gives in, Lydia can pinpoint the exact moment she resigns herself to this inevitability. If she’s going to lie for Allison she’s at least getting a free meal out of it.

Allison sighs. “Fine.”

A grin spreads across Lydia’s face and she sits up on her elbows. “And then we’ll go to the mall?”

“I have to be home before two,” Allison points out.

Lydia pouts. “Whatever.”

When Allison crawls out the window, reminding Lydia to keep it open, Lydia doesn’t say that she’s started leaving it open all the time, just in case.

 

 

 

They’re trying on a bunch of dresses Lydia’s mom bought her because she’s worried her daughter isn’t sleeping--she isn’t, not really, but her mother doesn’t need to know that, and Lydia doesn’t know how new clothes are supposed to help her anyway--when Lydia asks, “Do you think blue is my color?”

Allison smirks. “I thought everything was your color?”

Lydia rolls her eyes and grabs a turquoise dress, holding it up to herself and looking in the mirror. She tilts her head. “Be serious.”

“That one looks good.”

Lydia sighs. “You’re not lying to me?”

“I’m not lying to you, Lydia.” Allison laughs and grabs the dress, taking it off the hanger and shoving it at Lydia to try on.

“Good. Because you can’t lie to me,” Lydia says, pulling one strap of the bright red dress she’s currently wearing off her shoulder.

“I can’t?” Allison asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Lydia shakes her head. “You’re my best friend.” She doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does, soft and serious and kind of sad.

“You’re my best friend, too,” Allison says. She presses her mouth into a thin line and grabs a dress off the bed, holding it up to herself and turning to look in the mirror.

Lydia tries not to frown.

There’s something about how Allison says _you’re my best friend, too_ that doesn’t make Lydia thinks it’s a lie, not exactly, but she doesn’t quite believe it either. As though Lydia’s Allison best friend by default. Lydia thinks if Allison was defining the people in her life Scott would be her boyfriend and Lydia would be her best friend and Stiles would be her boyfriend’s best friend and so on and so forth. But if Allison was labeling everyone honestly, if people could have more than one label, Scott would be her boyfriend and her best friend and Lydia would fall into the friend category with Stiles and Jackson. Lydia thinks she’d be on top of that list, that she’s closer to Allison than they are—god she hopes she’s closer to Allison than they are—but that’s still what she is.

Lydia Martin: _friend_.

It’s not so bad, not really. Not when Allison lets Lydia link their arms together as they walk through the mall, lets Lydia steal all of the sheets at sleepovers without complaining and gives Lydia her fruit cup at lunch.

She’s had a lot of experience holding back and being second best.

Lydia thinks this is kind of like that.

Only better.

Lydia thinks, _Allison Argent:_ friend.


End file.
